


Derek Shouldn't Leave His Toys Lying Around

by Steerpike_Jennkings



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M, PWP, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5870983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steerpike_Jennkings/pseuds/Steerpike_Jennkings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The loft smelled like sex; capital S-E-X. He hadn't noticed it before because, well, teenagers always smelled of hormones, especially Stiles. This wasn't just his though. A second smell lingered and Peter recognized it instantly. </p><p>"Derek, you sly dog." He muttered. Peter shut the door and strolled to the couch, getting a better look at the kid. </p><p>Not even a bite or scratch on the skin, at least not from what Peter could see exposed. Most likely Stiles was naked under that red blanket, and Peter was too curious not to look. A hand extended to peek beneath it when that heart beat suddenly tripled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek Shouldn't Leave His Toys Lying Around

He could smell it from the first floor of the building. One of Scott’s friends was upstairs, in Derek's apartment. It was the spastic one, with the collection of freckles and wits that rivaled Peters. How he had managed to stay alive, and human, whilst running with Wolves for three years Peter wasn't sure. Maybe the kid was a genius, or most likely a complete idiot.

By the time he got to their floor, he could hear his heartbeat. Slow, dull, and without a hint of what Peter had always heard when in the same room as the teen. Most likely asleep. Now, this was strange. Derek wasn't home, and no one else was in the apartment, so why was Stiles sleeping on their couch?

Peter opened the door, careful not to make any noise. The teen’s heart stayed steady, and Peter followed its beat inside. He hadn't noticed it before, but now he understood why Stiles was exhausted.

The loft smelled like sex; capital S-E-X. He hadn't noticed it before because, well, teenagers always smelled of hormones, especially Stiles. This wasn't just his though. A second smell lingered and Peter recognized it instantly.

"Derek, you sly dog." He muttered. Peter shut the door and strolled to the couch, getting a better look at the kid.

Not even a bite or scratch on the skin, at least not from what Peter could see exposed. Most likely Stiles was naked under that red blanket, and Peter was too curious not to look. A hand extended to peek beneath it when that heart beat suddenly tripled.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Stiles yelled pulling the blanket out of Peters reach.

Damn. "Good morning." Peter said with a smirk.

Stiles gave a horrified look at Peter, then to his situation, then back to Peter. He stammered, "I-uh-was just-uh-taking a nap, after school."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "It's seven in the morning."

Stiles nodded, mouth-hanging open. "Did I say after? I meant before school. Taking a nap, before school."

"On a Sunday?"

"Uh, yeah Sunday school. I probably should head over there now. God bless, praise Jesus, whatever." Stile jumped up, blanket wrapped around his waist and shuffled towards his pile of clothes on the floor.

"Do you always sleep naked on Derek's couch?" Peter asked, watching Stiles as he struggled to pull his boxers on underneath the blanket.

"Yeah, I can't sleep when I'm in my regular clothes, you know. I just really like the freedom." Stiles face was red, and he paused to look up at Peter with a glare. "Do you mind? A little privacy would be nice."

Peter shrugged. "Seeing as I found you asleep on my couch, naked, privacy doesn't seem to bother you."

Stiles sighed and went back to struggling to keep the blanket on with one hand, and pulling his boxers up with the other. Peter studied the kid again. Thin, but not as scrawny as he thought. Definitely as pale as he expected, but it was strangely appealing. The skin on Stiles back was nearly translucent, and Peter could not only hear the blood rushing in his veins, but he could almost see it. Freckles and scars were a stark contrast, but nothing struck Peter as fresh. No bruises, bites or any indication Derek even touched him. If it weren't for the bitter smell of the room, and Stiles standing naked in front of him, Peter never would have guessed they had sex. Peter wasn't sure if leaving Stiles like a blank canvas was Derek's intention, but it almost annoyed him.

"You know," Peter took a few steps forward. Stiles watched warily as he succeeded in getting into his boxers, and reluctantly folded up the blanket.

"When we were kids, it used to drive me nuts when Derek got toys for Christmas or his birthday. I would always wear mine out in a year. Break them, scratch them, and just use 'em till they fell apart. Derek wasn't like that though. He kept his toys looking perfect, as if they'd never been touched." Stiles heartbeat sounded like a rabbits now, but the kids face never changed, focusing instead on sorting through his clothes. Peter placed a foot on the pile, and Stiles looked up reluctantly.

"I'd always get so jealous that Derek had such nice toys, and when he was gone, I'd sneak into his room and play with them. Of course I wasn't as gentle as he was, and eventually those toys got a few bumps and bruises." They were face to face now, Stiles breath hot and smelled faintly of Derek. It made Peters skin crawl but he couldn't deny it turned him on, thinking about how the next time Derek kissed Stiles, he'd taste Peter. How jealous his nephew would be when he striped down Stiles, only to find scratches Peter had left. That when Derek was fucking Stiles, he'd have to be careful not to shout Peters name.

"But I don't feel bad, you see: what's the point in having a toy if you're not going to use it to its full potential?" Peter’s hand brushed Stiles arm, claws running down to his wrist. Stiles breathing got heavier, and Peter’s ears roared with the sound of that poor little heart.

"After all," Peter leaned in close, Stiles neck only inches from his teeth. "Derek shouldn't leave his toys lying around."

He could hear Stiles swallow, and smell the hormones reaching overload. He didn't make the first move though; he wanted Stiles to do that. He wanted the knowledge that Stiles had knowingly turned his back on Derek, all because Peter batted his eyelashes.

Seconds passed and Peter felt almost disappointed; perhaps he underestimated Stiles. Maybe the teen wasn't as influenced by sex as Peter assumed. He hummed in thought and started to pull away when Stiles gripped his arm. The kid’s mouth hung open, but nothing came out. Peter decided it was best to put something inside, in exchange.

Not wanting to scare the kid off, Peter started slow; their lips meeting and Stiles giving a fearful squeak as Peter pulled him closer. Stiles body was stiff, but his mouth was eager to move in sync with Peters, allowing his tongue to explore the inside of the teens mouth.

It tasted like Derek, bitter, salty, and an underlying taste of earth. But it also tasted like Stiles, minty and sweet, with something darker Peter couldn't quite place. The longer it went on, the more Stiles relaxed; hands exploring Peters clothes, and hips brushing dangerously close to Peters thigh.

Eventually Stiles pulled away to breath, lips pink and pupils dilated. Peter had to resist the urge to bend Stiles over the couch. Instead he held back, admiring his work; particularly that bit of pink skin already pushing firmly against the front of Stiles boxers. Oh to be young.

Stiles leaned in again, and Peter smirked as their lips returned together. He had to admit, he was growing fond of the human.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Peter decided it was time to see how far he could take this game.

Claws extending from his fingers, he dragged a hand down Stiles spine, the other firmly holding Stiles by the hip. The teen squirmed, trying to pull away from the daggers raking his skin. Peters hand griped his hip even tighter, and he could smell Stiles fear rising.

Peter pulled his lips away but held onto Stiles. "Shh, don't worry."

His words must not have been very comforting, because Stiles's heart pattered like a cornered animal.

Peter’s hand left Stiles's back, bringing his fingers to the boy’s lips. Red covered the tips of the nails, and he made sure Stiles saw the color before he slipped a finger into his mouth. Stiles body shook as he reluctantly sucked at Peter’s fingers.

"How intimate are you and my nephew?" Peter asked, fingers sliding from Stiles mouth and resting on his jaw.

"W-what do you mean?" Stiles asked, hand reaching behind his back to feel the scratches left by Peter. The bleeding had almost finished, leaving small red buds that rested atop the skin. Stiles disturbed some of them and his hand returned with a streak of orange-red.

Peter brought Stiles hand to his own mouth, kissing it gently. It smelled amazing, and Peter doubted briefly if he'd be able to hold himself back any longer. "Have you ever sucked him off?"

Stiles licked his lips as he watched Peters, and he nodded slowly. "Once, but I'm not very good at it."

"We'll see." Peter whispered, and he slowly released Stiles hand. It hovered in the air a few seconds before Stiles brought it to his chest, holding his arms there, not sure what to do with them.

"Perhaps we should take this upstairs. I doubt getting fucked on the couch twice is much fun."

Stiles laughed uncomfortably and let Peter lead him up the loft stairs; into the wolf’s den so to speak. Peters bedroom wasn't very big, but it had a bed, and that's all Peter could think of. He led Stiles inside the room and shut the door behind them, tempted to flip the lock. He decided against it; Stiles was nervous enough as it was, let alone feeling trapped.

The teen was standing a few feet from Peter, eager to continue but afraid to approach. Peter sat on the bed, hand outstretched towards Stiles. "Come here."

He did as told, Peters hands reaching behind Stiles and resting on the back of his thighs, thumbs messaging into his hips. Stiles hands ran through Peter’s hair, and his eyes felt like they knew every dark dirty secret Peter held beneath his skin. Peter's fingers slipped beneath the band of the boxers, and Stiles quickly followed suite, helping Peter guide them down his legs, over his ankles, and tossed to the side.

"Cold?" Peter asked, hand returning to the teens thigh, the other rubbing the exposed piece of flesh.

Stiles shook his head, hands finding a spot on Peters shoulders to rest. "No, kinda sweaty actually." He smiled, but his eyes couldn't help but dart down to look at Peter’s hand, moving back and forth.

"Good." Peter gave a smirk and a few more strokes before letting go. He stood, towering over Stiles once again. "I suppose its only fair we make this even."

Peter removed his shirt, then reached for his jeans, only to be stopped by Stiles.

"Here, let me," Stiles muttered, moving Peters hands aside. Peter raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest; he wasn't and idiot. As Stiles hands undid the button and zipper, Peter leaned into his neck, inhaling Stiles scent. Arousal was the most potent, but there was the smell of nerves, shampoo, and Derek.

He didn't look away as Stiles pulled away the denim and cotton briefs. Stiles cold hands rested on his stomach, wrists grazing his pelvis. Peter breached the gap between them, burying his face in Stiles neck. Blood pumped beneath that thin, delicate sheet; his heart pounding beneath Peters lips.

Teeth grazed against Stiles skin and Peter smirked, feeling the boy shiver. His arms wrapped around Stiles and pulled him closer, feeling between his thighs. Stiles moaned and pushed closer the Peters body, eager for friction.

"Peter," Stiles whispered into his ear. "I need more. Please, it's been almost an hour, come on. Please."

Peter groaned, disdaining the impatience of youth, but hands wandered down to Stiles thighs. He gripped them tight and lifted, Stiles arms instinctively wrapping around his waist. He could smell the panic nearly overtake the arousal and hear Stiles's protests.

"Relax," Peter cooed. He took a few steps back, until his knees met the bed, and lowered them both onto it, Stiles perched on his lap. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" Peter's hand brushed a stray hair off Stiles forehead.

He looked annoyed but Stiles shook his head, the stray hair returning. "I wouldn't want it done again."

"You're no fun." It was a lie, Stiles was the most fun he had in months.

Stiles was already back on track, his hands sliding between him and Peter's hips. Just resting there. What a tease.

Their lips met again, and all Peter could think about was those lips in other places. Stiles must be a goddamned mind reader, because his lips curled into a smirk against Peter's. He wasn't sure if he loved or hated the teen anymore.

Without friction, Peter felt like he was going mad. Under normal circumstances he'd be handling that issue himself, but Stiles was barely balancing on Peters lap and if he let go the kid would fall backwards. His arm wrapped tighter around Stiles back, not wanting to loose what little was happening right now.

Stiles lips pulled away, looking at Peter beneath those dark eyelashes. "So...do you want a blow job?"

Peter pretended to pout, but couldn't help the heat rising in his chest at the thought of those lips exploring more unsavory areas. "It's not as sexy when you call it that."

Stiles scoffed, sliding off Peters lap and onto the floor. "You're fucking me, ok? Sexy isn't really my thing."

"You have no idea," Peter said, hands running through Stiles's hair and guiding him closer. Those lips wrapped around him, and how dare he lie to Peter. 'I'm not very good at it,' ? Stiles was fucking amazing; Peter had to hold back to not sound like a horny teen himself. Derek had probably only gotten one blowjob because after this, a man would be sexually satisfied for life.

Peter shut his eyes, hand gripping tight into Stiles hair. The teen’s head bobbed up and down, eyes watching Peter for signals. The kid seriously didn't think he was any good? If he were Derek he'd be buying Stiles a fucking car after this. In fact, he might just make good on that thought.

There was a hiss and Peter opened eyes to see the cause of Stiles sudden protests. Peter's eyes had been shut so tight, he hadn't realized he had started to shift. The claws had grown and were digging into Stiles scalp. Peter reluctantly let go, blood dripping into Stiles hair.

"Sorry," Stiles said.

"For what?" Peter asked, mouth full of fangs. He'd really let himself go, huh?

"I... Didn't know it was that bad."

Peter was nearly rolling off the bed with laughter. Bad? Bad?! He remembered having low confidence as a teen, but this was ridiculous. "Stiles, you were just that good."

Stiles tilted his head, "Really?" It sounded like an accusation, as if Peter were lying to him.

"You were amazing. Did Derek tell you were bad at it?" Literally, Peter couldn't even imagine Derek looking down at those big brown eyes and saying Stiles lacked talent, because the kid was a natural.

"Well no, but..." Stiles was looking everywhere but Peter. "He started to shift too, so I thought maybe it meant it was uncomfortable or something."

Peters claws dragged beneath Stiles jaw, forcing him to look up at him. He could hear that heart beat double, most likely due to Peters eye color, or maybe that he was smirking devilishly, those fangs purposely exposed. He guided Stiles back between his legs.

"Derek wasn't shifting because you were bad," Peter ran his fingers through the teens hair as Stiles's lips returned to where they were so desperately needed. "He was shifting because you made him loose control."

Stiles brown eyes gazed up at Peter, an eyebrow quirked in silent questioning. "You're making me loose control," Peter admitted. His fingers wrapped around in Stiles hair, he had to be careful from this point on. If he shifted anymore he could seriously scare the kid, or worse.

The sun, the moon, the truth. Sun , moon, truth. Sun, moon, truth. Sun, moon, Stiles making those sinful sounds between his legs. Peter released a breath, not realizing he'd been holding it.

There was a pop as Stiles pulled away, stream of spit hanging between his lips and Peter. It fell and landed on Stiles chin. His hand moved up and down Peter, and the werewolf was becoming unsure of who was in charge of the situation anymore.

Stiles kissed the tip, and then slid back onto Peters lap. "More," was all he managed to say before Peter had flipped them over, Stiles's back to the mattress. Peter’s claws were pressing against his shoulders drawing blood, and Stiles tongue explored the fangs inside his mouth. Peter detected a fetish in Stiles choice of mates.

He had to withdraw the claws before any long term side effects arose. Stiles winced but seemed more interested in those fangs. Their eyes were locked, and even though he could smell the fear as Stiles watched Peter, he could never have guessed just by sight.

If he were to let himself go all the way, what would happen? Peter always was the curious sort, and he had sex with werewolves in the past, but usually those nights were nothing more than a blur, but he'd never tried it with a human. Of course he wouldn't be doing that tonight with Stiles. The kid was, after all, just a kid. A human kid who had no desire for the bite and managed to survive for years surrounded by the supernatural. No matter what anyone said, there was something special about Stiles.

Legs wrapped around his hips and pulled Peter closer to Stiles. The teen was moaning into his mouth, and it no longer tasted like Derek. Instead, all he could taste was himself and that minty tinge that never seemed to leave Stiles.

Their bodies were pressed firmly against each other, Peter nearly pinning Stiles down. His hands were free though; exploring Peters back with his nails. Despite the cold air of his loft, both were sweating. Stiles felt like lava against his skin, burning Peter to his core. His claws were still there, and he had tried to have them revert, but each time Stiles made that noise with his mouth they seemed to want to stay. He wasn't sure if his eyes were still changed, Stiles wasn't interested in them anymore.

Peters palm had healed, but the blood was still fresh. It mixed with the blood on Stiles shoulders and left stains on his sheets. He didn't care; it smelled better than any cologne or perfume imaginable. He'd leave the sheets like this for days, so that way Derek would smell it every time he walked past.

"Are we just gonna hump each other or you gonna get some lube?" Stiles muttered around Peter’s lips.

"I'm rather enjoying this," Peter admitted. He didn't want to leave. Stiles was warm and smelled so goddamn good. If he moved he might just melt away. Besides, Peter didn't want to go running through the apartment naked looking for condoms and lube.

Stiles groaned as Peter’s lips moved away, traveling to his neck. The kid tasted just as good as he smelled, his skin salty with sweat and the pulse beneath Peters lips. His fangs scraped flesh and Stiles flinched. "Shh," Peter left a soft kiss on the skin. "We'll be fine like this."

He balanced on one arm, the other sliding between him and Stiles. His hand griped them both, moving up and down slowly. Stiles was moaning into his ear, begging for him to move faster. As much as Peter wanted to be inside him, he knew they'd never be able to wait that long.

Their bodies felt numb, Peters hand touching the only places still sensitive to touch. Sweat felt like glue, their chests unable to part. Peter was buried in Stiles neck and Stiles couldn't shut up. He wasn't even sure what he was saying, just that it was making Peters hand pump faster. Stiles eyes couldn't stay open, a wave of pleasure spreading through him.

Peter grunted as the pleasure from Stiles was joined by his own, and he held them both tightly, feeling the teen twitch beneath his fingertips. His forehead rested on Stiles shoulders, allowing them both to finish and avoid those fangs going past that barrier of flesh.

They stayed still for a while, Stiles panting and sticky against Peter. The teen groaned and pushed gently at Peter’s chest, breaking the trance.

"You're crushing me," he said.

Peter rolled of, finally letting go of them. His claws had gone, and the fangs were withdrawing. His body was cooling down quickly and his stamina building, unlike his partner. Stiles was radiating heat and smelled exhausted.

They laid in silence beside each other. Peter didn't want him to go, but he also didn't want him to stay. This was a one-time deal, right?

He could feel Stiles starring at him, but he didn't look over. "That was...fun."

Stiles nodded, and the normal scent of anxiety was slowly returning to the teen. It smelled sour and foul; completely throwing off the scent Peter had enjoyed so much. He rolled over, pulling Stiles against his chest.

"Relax," he demanded, and the teen took a deep breath. The anxiety still lingered, but it wasn't as strong. They were both filthy and sticky, but it felt so natural. He shut his eyes, allowing his senses to take everything in.

The kid’s arms were fumbling around and Peter wasn't sure what he was doing, but he didn't really care as long as Stiles wasn't leaving. Something was being placed over them, and Peter recognized it as his bed sheet. Apparently Stiles wasn't planning on leaving too soon.

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing full on smut, thoughts?


End file.
